


Silent Water

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Black Markets, Exploitation, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, MerMay, MerMay 2018, Modern AU, Pre-Relationship, Rescue, mermaid au, mermaid lavellan, pavellan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:43:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: Written for prompt: "an AU where my muse is a mermaid/man being kept in an aquarium".Varlen is not the first of the merfolk to be found by humanity.Thank the Creators for that.After being captured and put on display in the foyer of a high-end hotel, the days blur past in a series of camera flashes and gawking faces. Trapped in an empty tank, filled to the brim with silent water, Varlen begins to fear he is losing his mind as he drifts aimlessly before a sea of watchful eyes. A life spent longing to meet human beings is replaced by a desperate need to get as far away from them as possible, but no one cares enough to help him. They all just want to stare. Smile. Take a photo. Tap the glass.Then, he meets one of the good ones.





	Silent Water

He hated it. The way they  _stared_.

When they’d first dragged him from the sea, a part of him had been almost excited by the idea. He’d heard the stories, after all. Stories of his people leaving the water, heading onto land, striking questionable deals with witches, finding their legs. Finding  _love_. For a long time, Varlen had been swimming in intentionally shallow waters, tempting fate, daring the world beyond the ocean to fasten its teeth on  _his_ lure. Take him somewhere new. Away from the reef he called home, nestled at the heart of a once-beautiful carpet of coral. Now, it was little more than chalk in hazy water. He’d watched it die. Watched it since he was a child, unable to understand. He’d begged his clan to leave; to find somewhere else. But they were stubborn. Some were even convinced they could fix it.

Varlen had never been one to invest in an impossible future.

But  _humans._ Creators, they were different. Always moving, always pushing the boundaries of what they knew. Throwing themselves out onto the sea in metal ships. Descending to the darkest depths in clear orbs, glimpsing the world in narrow beams of torchlight. Unaware of everything lurking just a few feet to either side. Ever since Varlen was a child, he had wanted to be close to humans. To see what they saw beyond the breaking of the waves, where the world turned from blue to green.

Foolish,  _stupid_  dream.

Maybe they’d caught him off-guard. Maybe he’d let them. He’d thought it would be different; assumed the stories his father told about the horrors of humanity were lies meant to keep him controlled and obedient. The first things the humans had done was lock him in a dark tank, hidden away in the belly of their ship. He’d been patient for a few hours, thinking maybe this was just what they did; some kind of strange custom, or a rule they had to follow before they could talk to him. His clanmates had their own unusual traditions, after all. But as the hours dragged on, a deep, dark fear began to settle in Varlen’s chest. Fear at the darkness that surrounded him. Fear at the silent water, empty of everything that made the ocean so beautiful. Everything that made it home.

_Water should never be silent._

They’d taken him somewhere; thrown a dark cloth over his tank so he couldn’t see any of the world he’d dreamed about since he was a child. Ignored him as he beat his fists against the glass and sank to the bottom of the empty box. In the first place he’d been taken, he’d been put with others of his kind, their tails chained to the bottom of a single, large tank. None of them would speak to him, their eyes downcast, their scales dull.

People had passed by the tank; eyed them all like hungry sharks before a banquet of fish. Within an hour of being displayed, one of them pointed to Varlen, and he was dragged out by the chain. Overwhelmed by panic, he’d tried to grab the hand of the mermaid beside him, but she slipped from his grip without even reacting, her hair limp and lifeless in the heavy water. As they forced him into another tank, this time tall and narrow, he’d heard the words  _lively_  and  _pretty_  and  _good for business_ passed from the buyer to the seller.

He’d never expected to be used as decoration.

Now, Varlen drifted in the lobby of something called a  _hotel_ in a huge, empty tank, eyes resting on the pebbles that made up the floor. He was not broken – not yet. His eyes remained down to spare himself the pain of flashes made by small boxes, held by the people standing a few feet beyond the glass. He didn’t know what they were for. An instinctual part of him screamed to keep away. Anything that bright had to be a trap, waiting to lure him into a nest of sharp teeth.

He’d had more in his tank, before. A beautiful replica of a reef, cold to the touch, silent in the water. Plants that never grew, never ate, never  _died_. They had been Varlen’s refuge from the faces that pressed themselves to the glass, beady eyes watching his every move. When he hummed beside one of the fake coral, the sound had almost gave the impression of an echo, drowning out the incessant tapping of fingers on glass. It had almost been bearable.  _Almost_  been something he could survive.

But people had complained, so they had taken it away.

Now, he had nowhere to hide. Every move he made was followed by a sea of eyes, smiling faces, squealing children, intrigued parents. Strangers. Couples. Groups. Varlen had lost count of how many had paused by his tank. Sometimes, he tried to find a silver lining. He tried to be grateful that he was not the first of his kind to be caught. If this was the fate for them now, he dreaded to imagine the kind of suffering the first of the merfolk must have endured. The tests. The experiments. The trials. They were a known quantity now, if rare.

And despite being known, their value – their lives – were ignored.

Too many days had passed. Varlen had stopped counting after twenty…   _something_.  

It was dark, now. Most of the lobby’s lights had been dimmed, offering some small privacy to the late-night patrons of the establishment. Not to Varlen, of course. As soon as the main lights went off, the lights at the base of his tank went on, bathing him in a pale, sharp light designed to make even the dullest scales gleam. He’d been trying to sleep in that light, drifting on his back, when something caused him to stir. It was a strange sensation; he’d only felt it once before, when his sister had sneaked into his room after having a nightmare, but had been too shy to wake him. Some part of him had sensed her presence; prompted him to turn towards her.

He could feel it again.

Exhausted but unable to deny his instincts, Varlen allowed his head to tilt towards the source of his discomfort.

A man stood there.

Varlen started, instinctively swimming away, pressing himself to the far side of the tank. Not that it made any difference. But rather than push closer or rush around to get a better look, the man did something strange.

He raised his hands and took a step away.

It was almost like he was trying to…  _apologise_.

Heart hammering, Varlen stared at him, trying to understand, not sure he wanted to know the truth. The last truth he’d learned had been about humanity, and it had seen him put on display and exploited for being alive. But the man made no further attempts to approach, and there was something about his face - his eyes - that was different, somehow. They were so pale they were almost grey; so soft they almost made Varlen want to find out why.

He didn’t leave. Eventually, Varlen found himself drifting closer, that low-burning curiosity in him rekindled by the man’s presence. There was no camera. No gawking expression. No idle question about the cost of a scale or a lock of hair. Before he realised what was happening, Varlen found himself almost pressed to the glass, his breathing slow and deep and strangely unafraid. Perhaps he had become even more foolish. Perhaps he had just stopped caring all together.

 _“Can you… hear me?”_ the man asked, his voice muffled by the water and the glass, but still audible to the ears of the merfolk. Varlen managed a weak smile at the tentative question. He wanted to reply that he could hear a clanmate’s whisper from over a mile away in the open sea. Instead, he just nodded.

That provoked two reactions from the man. First, his expression slackened as shock washed over his face. Then, that shock gave way to horror.

 _“Maker’s breath… how could they keep you in such a place?”_ His pale eyes flicked around the bare tank, disgusted. Angry, but not at Varlen. No… he was angry  _for_  Varlen.  _“I… trust you are not here of your own free will, yes?”_

The man seemed to realise it was a stupid question the moment he said it, given the way he cringed right away. But Varlen just swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat, then shook his head.

 _No_.  _I’m not_.

It wasn’t so much that the question was stupid. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that this man, of the hundreds of people who had come up to his tank, was the first to  _ask_.

 _“I see.”_ He started walking around the tank, circling somewhat like a shark, but without the menace. There was something calculating about the way he walked with slow, steady steps. His hand rose to stroke a dark patch of hair above his mouth, framing the curve of his upper lip. It was a strange looking thing. It suited him.  _“A well-made piece, but not without fault,”_ the man continued absently, his eyes honing in on the latches at the top of Varlen’s tank.  _“Yes… I can work with this. Tell me; is there a second lock inside the lid? Perhaps operated remotely?”_

Curious, Varlen followed the man’s pointing finger and swam to the area he indicated, peering around. Eventually, he shook his head. He didn’t know what  _remotely_  meant, but there was nothing inside the tank. Nothing that he could see, at least.

_“Excellent. Thank you.”_

It was funny how something as simple as being thanked and being spoken to like an equal could make Varlen want to break down in tears.

Or maybe it wasn’t funny at all, given that he  _did_.

Most people didn’t notice. It was hard to tell, what with him being surrounded by water. While many people looked at him, no one seemed to actually  _see_ him.

But as soon as the first sob snuck past Varlen’s defences – even though he had made an effort to conceal it – the man stopped his inspection of the tank.

 _“Come now…”_ There was no reprimand in his voice. It was just soft. Comforting. Sad.  He stepped up to the glass, resting a hand on it gently, as if to reach out to him.  _“None of that. They don’t deserve your tears.”_ The hand at his side curled into a fist. “ _They deserve no part of you.”_

Chest shuddering, Varlen nodded, part of him agreeing. They didn’t deserve to break him. He couldn’t let them. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself and sank down, leaning heavily against the side of the tank. It was just a trick of the mind - it had to be - but Varlen swore he could feel the warmth of the man’s hand through the glass. He knew the man couldn’t hear him, but he had to try. Had to  _ask_.

“Will you help me?” His voice seemed to echo in the hollow tank, breaking the silence of the water. “ _Please_. Help me.”

The man just moved closer. He said nothing for so long that Varlen assumed he had not understood. But even if he hadn’t, his presence… it was enough. For now, it was enough that someone had spoken to him like he was worth the breath to carry the words.

How far his sense of worth had fallen…

_“I will.”_

Varlen’s eyes snapped up, meeting the man’s gaze, the two of them separated by nothing more than a few inches of glass. It seemed impossible to believe; foolish, even; but when faced with the conviction of his stare, Varlen dared to. No… he  _wanted_  to.

“Thank you,” he breathed, the water bubbling gently as he spoke. The man gave a soft smile.

 _“Not yet. Thank me tomorrow.”_ He held Varlen’s gaze for another moment then stepped back, drawing the collar of his coat higher around his face, preparing to brave the cold of the night.  _“Might I… know your name?”_

Varlen knew the man who had bought him had given him one. It was inscribed on a bronze plaque at the front of the tank.  _Marinos, Son of Neptune_. Everyone just accepted it. Again, this man surprised him by asking a question to which most did not want the answer.

“Varlen.”

The man gave him a grateful look, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of respect.  _“A much better name than the rubbish one they gave you. Honestly, they should try that as a separate crime entirely. Defamation, at the least.”_ He softened his expression and smiled again.  _Creators,_ he had a wonderful smile.  _“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Varlen. Although I do wish it had occurred under more pleasant circumstances.”_ He sighed.  _“No matter. We will rectify that soon enough.”_

With that, he started to turn, angling towards the hotel doors. Varlen started in shock, pressing his palms to the glass. He knew he’d be punished for leaving marks, but he didn’t care. He had so many questions; was desperate for more of the man’s simple, honest kindness. His conversation.  _Those eyes_.

“Wait, please. Stop!” His sudden movement must have caught the man’s attention because he paused and glanced back, eyebrow raised. A thousand thoughts tumbled madly in Varlen’s mind, but only one found purchase on his lips. “Who are you?”

Again, somehow, the man understood. His eyes gleamed despite the low-light of the hotel foyer.

_“I am Dorian Pavus, and I am going to free you.”_


End file.
